Road to Ruin
by Bruh Studios
Summary: A syndicate of old shall set into motion a struggle that will engulf all in a struggle in which bloodshed will know no bounds.
1. 0: Smoke

Smoke, catching sparse shafts of moonlight, trailed silvery lines through calm night air. A flash of red appeared at the base of the snaking cloud, the faint sound of deep inhalation accompanying the glow. Another puff of smoke was expelled with a steadying breath, a gloved hand moving the cigarette away from the smoker's lips, revealing little more than the filter left. With a crisp flick of the finger the figure discarded the spent cigarette, and an unwrapped stick of gum was folded between parted lips. The familiar flavor of spearmint caressed his taste buds, dissipating the ashy residue in his mouth. Satisfied, the figure pulled up a crimson bandana to cover the lower half of his face, hands drawing the knot tight. From atop his forehead came a pair of tinted goggles, set snuggly about the eyes, allowing adequate sight in the dimness of night. A second bandana, nearly identical to the first, save for the vague likeness of a black 'M' front and center, covered the top of his head.

"Showtime," the figure uttered in a hushed tone, eyeing a towering concrete barrier several paces away.

Resting a hand against the trunk of a nearby tree, the other reaching back to pat a small bag slung over shoulders, the figure gazed skyward. Branches intermingled with leaves to create a thick overhead canopy, several prime offshoots near enough to be mounted easily. With little more than a hop, the male grasped hold of a hefty branch, hoisting himself upwards. Leaves rustled as the figure's added weight landed squarely on the limb, thick-soled shoes shifting slightly to balance the load. Sufficiently stable, the individual rose to a crouch, peering through the foliage at the wall before him. Edging forward with eyes panning the length of the barricade for cameras, fingers flexing in anxious anticipation, he reached the extent of the branch.

'_Time to start a war,'_ he mused grimly, feeling his leg muscles tense for the leap, certain of no recording devices in proximity.

Wind lightly grazed exposed skin as he sailed through the cool night air, narrowly clearing the top of the wall, descending rapidly. Little more than a muffled thud sounded when he landed, the balls of his feet pressing deeply into the soil, body thrust towards the barrier. Hidden within the shadow of the wall, he paused, eyes closed as he recalled the memorized layout of the surroundings. Reopened eyes gazed upon a lengthy stretch of open lawn. Beyond the lush grass loomed the large outline of a building, the interior visibly dark through several windows. Dashing through the moonlit courtyard, the figure slid to a halt, flattening himself against the building within reach of a door. As his hand extended for the door's knob bright light spilled from within the building, illuminating the surrounding area in an ethereal glow. A faint click snapped, followed closely by the pop of an opening latch. Swinging inward, the door revealed the face of a young man, his eyes lackadaisically sweeping the courtyard. "You must be seeing things," the young man teased an unseen accomplice with a chuckle as he retreated into the building, lock reset behind him.

A pent-up breath leaked out in a slow hiss as the figure in the shadows watched the light flick off. Reluctantly, he slipped the bag from his shoulders, planting it at his feet while tugging at the drawstring. The unexpected tenants posed a host of threats that went unmentioned in the intelligence report, a snort of annoyance emanating from the masked figure, hands digging around in the backpack. Reemerging from the shadowed depths, the gloved hands grasped a pair of objects, bringing them close enough for inspection. Moonlight glinted dully off the objects, allowing the male to scrutinize the pistol in his right hand, a full clip of ammunition in his left. With practiced ease he loaded the magazine into the sidearm, chambering a round and checking the safety before tucking it under an arm. Pocketing a second clip, bag slung back over a shoulder, the trespasser retrieved his weapon. On the ball of a foot he pivoted towards the door, coming to look at the locked knob. '_Now to see if they screwed up more than just the intelligence,'_ the individual quipped in minor annoyance, eyeing a key plucked from his pant's pocket.

The lock responded with a satisfying click at the turn of the key, door slowly opening to reveal a short corridor. Nary a soul was within sight leaving the intruder to wonder at the degree of the intelligence's error as he moved swiftly down the hall. At its end, the hall opened into a room of immense size, an equally impressive pool filling a majority of the floor space. Reflected moonlight shimmered against the walls in waves of blue, a soothing ambiance encompassing the surroundings. Oblivious to the tranquil scene around him, the male darted left, heading towards the outer wall. Rubber squealed against tile flooring as the trespasser came to a sudden halt, causing a wince to twist his face. '_Try not to blow this,'_ he scolded himself mentally, the bag once again falling from his shoulder.

Straps resting in the crook of his elbow, using his free hand to rummage around the contents of the backpack, his hand cradling a brick-shaped item as it reemerged. Affixing the object to the wall, a light blinking to life at the flip of a small switch, the figure jogged away. As he paused to repeat the process the overhead lights burst on, flooding the room with powerful illumination. Goggles reduced the sting of the sudden shift in lighting, but the realization of his discovery sent a chill up his spine. Quickly finishing the task, he spun on his heels to spy the opposition, a small group of people appeared at the far end of the room.

"Magma!" a female voice yelled venomously from within the pack, identifying the allegiance of the invader.

From among the crowd strode a woman in her early 20's, fiery, shoulder-length hair sharply contrasting the blue she and the rest of her troupe wore. Her appearance startled the lone man.

"She wasn't supposed to be here, but, then again, neither was anyone else for that matter," he snarled quietly, fingers wrapping tighter around the grip of his gun.

The bag at his elbow hindered his motion, and certainly a clean shot was out of picture, but one wasn't necessary. Aimed in the group's general direction, the gun discharged a single round, its owner watching as one of the members yelped in pain and dropped to a knee. Disorder reigned and the cluster broke apart as its elements dove for cover, the pained screams of the wounded man adding to the rising din. The staccato chatter of automatic rifles ripped though the verbal commotion, aimless bullets tossing up plumes of water or pieces of tile as they worked their way towards the sole gunman. Feeling the situation grow more perilous with each passing moment, 'Magma' yanked his pack onto his shoulder, allowing him unimpeded use of his arm. Several rounds burst from his gun to keep the hidden foes honest, his weight shifting towards the exit for a quick escape. Spying a bullet striking the floor meager feet away, shards of tile bouncing off his charcoal colored pants, he decided to break for freedom. Growing more courageous, heads peered from their safety to find their target on the move, weapons moving to more suitable firing positions.

"Kill the bastard!" the woman's voice rang out again, her words having an evident affect on her comrades as the spray of bullets increased.

In a dead sprint the bandit neared the hallway with considerable speed, but the fired rounds were closing faster. With an audible grunt he strained for every ounce of speed his body could muster, exploding tile visible in his peripheral vision. '_Come_ ON_!'_ he demanded of his legs amid the hailstorm of metal, his body scant feet from the entrance to the corridor.

One final lunge drew him within the relative safety of the hallway, a bullet clipping the sole of his trailing shoe, his leg jerking with the glancing impact. Unsteadied, he twisted to the floor, chest heaving. Muscles shivered in exhaustion as his head lulled back and forth, attempting to regain his bearings, finding the haze not yet having worn off.

"After him!" a new, masculine, voice bellowed, quickly putting a stop to the continuous firing.

Something audible, whether the screaming voice or lack of gunfire, stirred the fatigued man from his daze, snapping him to attention. Reaching for his open bag, toggling his gun to safe, he thrust the pistol into the sack. Digging out two more brick-shaped objects, he slapped one to each wall, both with light aglow. Before replacing the bag to his back, he withdrew the last of the items, clutching it tightly while forcing himself to stand. Thundering footsteps intensified as he eased into a jog, legs bemoaning the activity. The first pursuer arrived the moment gloved fingers gripped the doorknob, both men making eye contact for an instant, both realizing the necessary haste.

"Halt," the gun-toting man ordered in vain, his target yanking the door inward.

The masked man ducked through the opening, his counterpart lifting his rifle, chasing the intruder into the night with a flurry of bullets. Jerking shut the door, vibrations from bullets impacting the metal barrier causing the knob to quiver in his hand, the runner found himself back outside. Open terrain stretched out before him once again, the same wall presenting itself as an obstruction, both seemingly more parlous obstacles the second encounter.

'_And that's why I have this thing,'_ he thought, flipping the held item's switch and hefting it once before heaving it towards the wall, '_bombs away.'_

Twice bouncing, then rolling, it came to a rest at the base of the concrete structure, shadows hiding it presence. Sidestepping, a hand shoved into a pocket, his fingers encircled a metallic cylinder. With thumb and forefinger he twisted the cylinder's top, the twisted portion pulling away from its housing. Averting his eyes, thumb jamming down on the released plunger, the night roared with sudden activity.

Tongues of flame lashed out from the base of the wall as deafening booms cascaded in from all directions, a cloud of dust billowing out from where the device had landed. Shockwaves expanded like a stiff wind, bending the immediate foliage outward, clothing ruffling as anxious eyes peered into the cloud. Slowly the dust dissipated, a complete breach visible in the base of the concrete, earth cratered by the blast. "Well at least something went as planned," a wry grin on his lips as he remarked, starting off towards the hole.

Kneeling in exposed dirt, he began to wriggle through the fissure, ample clearance allowing rather unhindered progress. Clear of the barrier, hands brushing loose dirt from where it clung, the man allowed himself a final glance at the wall. A deep breath escaped from his lips as he turned away from the building, once again taking up a steady jog, a farewell crossing his mind, '_it was good seeing you too, Misty.'_

* * *

Author's Notes: I don't own Pokémon, plain and simple. Also, a big thanks to dazdnconfusd730 for beta-reading for me. 


	2. 1: Fire

**1: Fire**

Flames danced with wild abandon as they feasted upon a wealth of suitable fodder, its searing tendrils whipping about as the fire edged towards an inferno. Water, spilling freely from broken pipes, nipped feebly at the fringes of the blaze, pools quickly growing amongst debris scattered about the floor. As the liquid seeped beneath the chunks of rubble it became tinted a faint pink, slowly deepening towards crimson. Watching the scene unfold from a distance, a woman, face a picture of detached disbelief, struggled to move forward, her entire being seemingly frozen. Her laggardly pace eventually drew her closer to a prone form sprawled out across the floor, feet shuffling through a pool of blood, streaking scarlet trails along the floor.

"Misty…" a distant voice consoled vainly, the host watching with growing exasperation, "Misty!"

The stern tone tore Misty away from her mindless march, eyes flaring wide before narrowing as they truly beheld the wreckage before them. Swinging her gaze from the far wall with its twin holes punched in it, to the hall where a majority of the aftermath sat hidden from her view, finally resting on the corpse she had unwittingly passed moments ago. Anger boiled up within her, seemingly feeding off the flames burning nearby, eyes settling on the man who had called her name. His clothing was unsoiled despite the recent commotion; his shoulders set almost defiantly rigid, cobalt eyes locked in Misty's direction in silent waiting. The tight set of his jaw belied the stewing rage beneath his stoic features. Increasingly perturbed by his counterpart's silence, the man observed, "Someone was bound to have reported those explosions, which means we'll be swarming with uniforms. And since this _is_ a gym they're likely to bring some League lackeys with them."

A scowl met the statement as Misty snarled her response, "I'm aware of that, Ethan. So I suggest you get your ass in gear and start fixing the problem!"

"Yes ma'am," Ethan answered smartly, recognizing Misty's infamous temper, and, not wishing to incur her wrath, hurried off.

Feeling the sweltering heat intensify with each step, Ethan snatched a trio of orbs hanging from his belt, tossing them towards the raging fires. The spheres of red and white tumbled through the air, splitting apart mid-flight in a brilliant flash of light. From the light morphed three shapes, two appearing distinctly similar as the brightness of the illumination faded. Reattaching the returned orbs to his belt, pace slowing to a walk, Ethan eyed the summoned creatures.

A duo of frog-like beasts, skin a deep hue of blue, stood upright, focused intently on their master. Also with them stood a being similar in form to a turtle, its skin a lighter shade of blue, feathery white ears twitching at the roar of the fire.

"All right you three," Ethan spoke in a commanding timbre, stopping a stride from his wards, "we need to put out these fires and clean up the mess, and we need it done now."

Needing no further instructions, the trio of pokémon broke off to battle the blaze, bathing their surroundings in a rush of water. "Poliwraths, into the hall, we need that fire out to clear out the debris," Ethan directed from a distance, mentally adding with a slight shudder, '_and some bodies.'_

Attention moved to the final member of the team, Ethan found fires still burning. With a hint of disgust he egged on the turtle-type pokémon, "Come on Wartortle, we'll need all the muscle we can muster to move some of the debris. Pick up the pace."

Instant response showed in a thicker stream of water dousing the waning fire, plumes of white steam billowing upwards. Fire finally succumbed to its natural weakness, the wartortle grunting in satisfaction before joining its partners in their effort. Between the three of them they made short work of the remaining flames, allowing their master entrance to scan the wreckage, his eyes catching sight of a hand beneath a large chuck of material. The possibility of survival, from first the blast and then the fire, was slim at best, but Ethan decided to guide his beasts to the slab of rubble. "On the count of three, lift that chunk and stack it near the door," he ordered, indicating the door he referenced with his gaze, "One. Two. Three."

With little apparent effort, the pokémon hefted the sizable load and moved it towards the intended destination, revealing what Ethan hoped to be a living individual. Instead, only the hand and forearm remained, severed jaggedly at the elbow, blood still leaking into the surrounding water.

"Damn," the word barely made it past Ethan's lips as he shook his head, his mind telling him it was to be a long, unpleasant cleanup.

* * *

"Those arrogant bastards think they can get away with killing my friends, trying to blow up my gym, and trying to kill _me_?! Oh, they'll soon find out _we_ can play that game, too," Misty fumed, storming down a lengthy corridor.

Her eyes bore ahead but saw only the frozen image of the masked figure who had violated the sanctity of her gym, a ironic notion that earned a stiff snort. The more she stared at the mental image of the man, the more she realized how little she knew. '_He was smart enough to find a way into the gym, yet dumb enough to come alone. He only needed one shot to kill one of my men, but that could've been nothing but luck. And did he run because he realized he was outmatched, or because he was a coward?'_

Questions and uncertainties continued to taunt her as she reached the end of the hall, a sudden hesitation overcoming her as her hand reached for the door. Reporting something to the boss, as she had planned, with so little information was ill-advised, for they weren't long on patience, especially at such a late hour. The luxury of concrete facts was unavailable to her, but the fact remained ingrained in her mind: men were dead and her gym was in partial ruin because of an individual dressed in a Team Magma uniform.

Steeling herself, Misty moved into the room, flipping on the lights as she passed through the door. A simple, uncluttered office lay visible under the artificial illumination. Two chairs flanked a desk positioned near the far wall, a high-back chair sitting opposite the wooden furnishing from them. Several stacks of papers sat atop the lacquered timber, hidden amongst them rested a phone for which Misty reached. With the cool plastic of the receiver nestled in her palm, she carefully dialed a number committed to memory, pressing the handset to her ear.

Thrice the phone rang before the audible click of the phone being answer crossed the line, a throaty, "Yes?" following soon after.

"Sir, it's Misty from the Cerulean City Gym. I have some urgent news," she spoke, hoping any trepidation was absent from her voice.

A relenting sigh, "Continue."

"Moments ago my gym, along with several Aqua personnel, came under attack from a Magma agent. We lost five of our own and sustained an unknown degree of damage to the building-"

"And the Magma agent?" her boss interrupted, a tinge of irritation in the question.

"He escaped."

Tense silence occupied the line, a displeased breath breaking the quiet, "I see."

A void appeared again, leaving Misty unsure of what her boss was pondering, so she decided to press ahead. "Si-"

"I want you, and any remaining people you have, to see if you can't figure out who this person was and why they killed _several of my men!_"

The connection was broken before Misty had a chance to acknowledge the order, a dull buzz droning in her ear. Returning the headset to its cradle, hand lingering for a moment, Misty gazed about the lonely confines of her office. She had just been tasked with finding the proverbial needle-in-the-haystack, but there was one thing she was certain of. If it came to it, she would leave a trail of corpses until she found the one responsible and made him pay the price for his actions.

* * *

Dim light radiated from a silent television set, unblinking eyes watching the screen with a vacant stare. Dark circles discolored already dark skin, ringing eyes that seemed little more than narrow slits; the man to whom they belonged sunk low in an armchair. The gentle rise and fall of the man's chest was the first sign of life, followed by the gradual closing of his glazed eyes. For a moment it appeared as though sleep had found him, but the sharp ring of a nearby phone ended the quiet respite. Releasing an annoyed sigh, the man allowed his hand to fall heavily upon the offending device, drawing the receiver to his ear. "What?" he breathed in greeting, hand rubbing across the bridge of his nose after ruffling chocolate-colored spikes of hair, "no, you didn't wake me."

"You sound like hell," the voice ribbed with a light chuckle.

"Bet I don't look much better," the weary man groaned, hand flattening his naturally spiky locks, his head settling back against the chair, "so what is it you want? I doubt you called at this ungodly hour to shoot the breeze."

"We have a bit of a situation," the voice answered deadpan, "apparently Aqua pulled a stunt at one of our bases, and the bigwigs aren't willing to take it sitting down."

"So you want me to make them regret they ever messed with you guys?"

"Precisely," the voice confirmed succinctly, "Plus we both know you have a grudge to settle with them."

The latter statement rang true in the man's mind, his gaze shifting towards a photo held in his hand, its contents hidden within the darkness. Sadness tugged at him as his eyes welled up with tears, a grieved snarl twisting his lips. "Just get back to me when you have the particulars figured out," he spoke into the receiver, dropping it back into its housing.

Giving the photo one last glance before leaning it against the phone, rising from his seat, the man moved across the room. The television snapped off with a single button press, complete darkness settling over the area. Heading for bed, the man knew sleep would find his weary mind, because soon he'd spill Aqua blood once again after such a long time.


End file.
